Paperweight
by Edlyn Velda
Summary: EDITED. A whole lot of diary entries, featuring a miserable man who hates the world, and a hormonal teenager who he doesn't give a damn about... for now. EDITED.


EDITED

disclaimer: not mine.

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

Dear Diary,

I hate my life. I hate Harry Potter. I hate Longbottom. I hate Weasley. Be damned lemon sherberts!

I hate Trelawney. I hate Sybil. I do believe they are the same person. Fuck it to hell and back. What else do I hate… Sprout! She can go root her own bloody plants.

Hooch. God's the woman's eyes spell out i-want-to-shag-you-severus. Will be avoiding her as much as possible.

I could go on forever, it would be just like an unravelling tissue roll.

Oh I've turned into a miserable cow.

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

Dear Diary,

Ron and Harry got me this beautiful diary as an advanced birthday present. They didn't mean to give it to me though, Ron sort of went ahead and gave it to me one morning assuming that that day was my birthday. Oh well, he may have forgotten, but at least he knew it was coming.

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

Dear Diary,

Dumbledore, the merryman, just adores parties, doesn't he?

And so, the deluded old fool, thought that it would be fun to change the traditional Halloween feast, as in not just pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns, everyone stuff your faces with apple pies and all, but an actual party, like dancing and costumes, think shindig.

Well, I guess I'll be partying with the whiskey in my quarters… if he thinks I'd actually attend to such un-fun festivity.

Anyway, I've realised why I'm such a miserable bitch. It all goes down to this. I simply haven't had sex in a long time.

And I would like to.

There.

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

Dear Diary,

Dumbledore announced a Halloween party, different from the others we usually have. Everyone seems to be so happy. I should be too shouldn't I? But everyone's treated it like the Yule ball. Ginny, Lavander and the Patil twins were all talking about their dates and what costumes they would wear, which, from the way they were described, didn't sound too frightening. I, for one don't find bunny ears, at all, scary. However, five inch sparkling stilettos did sound quite daunting.

What am I going to wear? I don't even have a date. I shouldn't worry about that though. Who cares, right? And he did say it was just a party… There would be some people without dates there. What am I worrying about? pah!

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

Dear Diary,

I really need to get laid.

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

(the evening of the Halloween Party)

Dear Diary,

In about an hour, the Halloween party will start. I, am supposed to be a vampire but I kind of look like the daughter Snape's never had. At least, that's what Harry has told me before Ron nearly wet his pants when I turned up in the common room.

It was supposed to be Halloween right? I mean, what the hell was Ginny, Lavander and the Patils thinking? Heels that could gouge someone's eyes out, bust and panty peeking outfits. I must have missed something.

So anyway, I have no date but I don't really care. Maybe a little.

Harry is going with Ginny, Parvati with Ron, Lavander with Dean, Padma with some guy in Ravenclaw and I think Neville's going with Luna. Oh, c'mon. Even Neville's scored himself a date!

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

(the evening of the Halloween Party)

Dear Diary,

I hate Halloween. Many would probably object to that. So I've decided to wallow in my miserableness around the corridors of the school drinking myself silly.

I've also returned to my good old friend the cigar again. It's not allowed of course, only Filch has found me, but not to worry I gave him a penny to keep quiet.

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

(later that evening)

Dear Diary,

I mean, the party isn't that bad. Professor Mcgonagall turned up as catwoman, basically in a black fitted outfit with cat ears and a tail, when she could have transfigured herself instead, save her the hassle.

Professor Dumbledore dressed up as a mummy, wrapped in toilet paper, and could barely announce his greetings, he managed to muffle it through though.

Professor Sprout turned up as a plump little pumpkin, that was cute.

And Snape… well, he was there for less than five minutes as himself, in which Neville fainted.

Then Snape was gone, I hadn't sighted him since.

Almost half an hour passed and the party was still high and flying. Draco and Pansy as a zombie couple were grinding on the tables along with other couples and I… well I was happy sipping juice for most of the time… the teachers were dancing normally, Filch was smiling at a shiny coin he was holding, like it was more precious than his rabid cat.

And well now, I've found myself in the prefects bathroom after too much bloody juice.

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

(later that evening)

Dear Diary,

Me thinks must I be drunnkk. (written in the form of how a drunk person would write)

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

Dear Diary,

I don't what to think of yesterday,

I should have never left the Great Hall, should have never drank too much of that bloody juice.

Alright, so I was there fixing myself up in the toilets. I still looked the same, powdered face, artificial blood running down the sides of my blood red lips, heavy eyeliner and topped up with a disastrous mass of hair. Not bad.

Next thing I know, the door blasts open and Snape's there, leaning against the doorway, before he slams it closed, cigar in his mouth and clutching a bottle of firewhiskey, looking at me with predatory eyes.

And that's when it happened.

I wish it didn't…. Not like that at least.

He was drunk. I could have been a donut.

...

Dear Diary,

Someone spike my pumpkin juice so I can die.

This morning, I vomited and skipped breakfast. I didn't dare to go to the infirmary, I think I'll just wait till our next visit at hogsmeade, there's bound to be some sort of wizard chemist there.

I really hope I'm not... you know.

Cross my fingers.

**SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS**

Dear Diary,

It's potions class right now and I'm so cruel, I've made them read as much as they can from the start of the textbook till the lesson's over.

And they think I'm marking their boring essays but I'm not! I'm cursively writing in my fancy diary. Hah!

Bet you any money Granger is on the verge of gouging her own eyes out, assuming she has memorized it front to back and now she has to read it for the gazillionth time.

Speaking of Granger, oh so smart and intellectual being that ever hit the planet, I sensed a sort of awkwardness towards her.

She seemed different today. Less energetic? Her arms must be broken or her maybe she's sporting a sore throat and can hardly speak, or something.

Maybe she has finally learnt to shut up.

**HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE**

Dear Diary,

I had potions class this afternoon and I have to admit, I was scared out of my wits. Ron said, it was probably the one time I hadn't put my hand up and Harry wondered if I was alright. In truth, no. But I couldn't say that could I?

"Yes Harry you're right, I'm not alright, I'm far from alright. You see I just shagged Snape, or more like he came onto me… but he obviously has no idea since he was pissed drunk, but funny enough, I didn't stop it because I always liked the man in ways you'll never know, and eventually let him take me straight between my thighs, and now, after a most thrilling night I'm all regretting it, for the fact that I could have been bloody Hedwig he was shagging for all he knew, and now… the greasy little baby is swimming inside me the size of a tadpole!"

Like hell I would.

Right now, I wouldn't refuse a lemon sherbet if Dumbledore offered.

...

Dear Diary,

I have decided.

Snape. I just can't tell him… out of the question… he would shoot me the muggle way… I mean he'd never believe me even if I told him.

And if word came out... that is, if i told him, in which Dumbledore would be notified, and Snape would then probably get fired and be eaten alive by fluffy or a monkey-eating hippogriff.

I wouldn't be able to do my NEWTS… in which my whole life will be ruined… it'll be all over the daily prophet… and my parents! They'd probably disown me, I'd be like a cavity to them!

Therefore… I'd be doing everyone a favour in getting rid of the child. If only I had the money.

How am i supposed to do that by myself?

SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS

Dear Diary,

It is midday, and I have just woken up, without really knowing how the hell I got here, skipped two of my classes already. Yes!

Nothing beats a good hangover…

Before I say anything about that, I would just like to inform the reader, me, that the Granger girl was outside my quarters last night, she wanted to 'talk'. I shooed her away as I'm too old to listen to hormonal teenagers and their hasty relationship break-ups and told her I was in quite a hurry for Dumbledore's errand, that is, in code, to go get away from you people as I'd rather be shagging a cheap whore right about now.

So off I went, to a different sort of wizarding pub last night, apparated to the other side of the world as a matter of fact, hogsmeade and knockturn alley does get a bit boring, you know.

And found that it was quite facinating and rather… we'll everything's still glued to my mind. I recall some poles, jiggly parts, flashy lights and rather weird music and lots of women dancing to it.

I remember one who couldn't seem to keep her chest out of my face at one point.

I don't remember anything much from then on…

HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE

Diary Diary,

Oh gods it was a horrible night.

I finally had the guts to do what was right…

I was about to tell him… but he didn't even let me speak!

Something about going on an errand for Dumbledore turned out to be, after I followed him through the floo, some kind of insane club where women flashed their parts and slid on poles.

He got drunk quite quickly, and next think I knew this woman was shoving her cleavage on his face and dragging him out, god knows where, to do god knows what.

I don't know what it was, but something inside of me just sank. Looking at the state of him, I couldn't let her take advantage of him, like I did.

She took him into a secluded alley, where I stunned her and Snape, before flooing back to his headquarters, his arm draped over me.

And that's when the idea hit me, I could approach this situation differently. He'd never have to know that he'd shagged his student and impregnated her at the process, instead it would be just one of those unfortunate one-night stands with a totally random prostitute he picked up at a club… I mean, that sounded more normal and less shocking.

It was wrong but… I couldn't see any other way.

...

Dear Diary,

I sent the letter to Snape. I explained the whole thing as formal and politely as I could… let's just hope he remembers enough of what happened to him a night ago to believe it.

SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS

Dear Diary,

Some old hag owled me today. Blamed me that she was pregnant and that she needed my money to get an abortion because she didn't want to give birth to an ugly greasy child. Not exactly her words, but I suppose she was implying that.

I, of course, owled back saying I didn't know what the hell she was talking about let alone who the hell she was. Then she owled again and said her name was Kirsten Waddlepuff.

Um… okay?

I told her to fuck off.

It's bad enough I get love letters covered in pink glitter and hearts in my drawers accompanied by scented lingerie and uncensored photos of their neck down signed 'your secret admirer' but now I have a personal stalker who claims they have my child. They wish.

HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE

Dear Diary,

Well that plan failed.

I feel like crying… I don't know what else to do, I can't even eat straight.

SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS

Dear Diary,

Dinner was most uneventful, nothing worth writing about, however the Granger girl kept glancing every now and then, like she was deciding what to eat "Snape or the Pie? Snape or Pie?"

HERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONEHERMIONE

Dear Diary,

Another idea hit me. I went to the Pensieve room today, in the Prefect's quarters. I realised that, he either didn't believe me, or in this case Kirsten Waddlepuff, too drunk to even remember, or is somehow in denial, I was going to find another way.

I grabbed my camera my parents bought me for my birthday and took a few shots of the night as I visited the scenes.

Who would have known goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger would even consider blackmail.

Indeed, how very slytherin.

...

Dear Diary,

I've owled it.

Now all I have to do is wait.

Merlin I feel like chocolate.

SEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUSSEVERUS

Dear Diary,

What in God's name am I going to do!? Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Kirsten Waddlepouf, whatever her fucking name was – that bastard of a bitch!

Alright, I'm in a bigger predicament than I'd imagined, merlin's bloody brilliant balls! Apparently, since I didn't believe that she was pregnant, with my child, or so she says, she owled me this evening, a letter attached with photos, supporting that crazy scenario. Photos I'd prefer not to discuss, however seeing as you are not exactly alive with mouth or ears, I will.

They were photos taken of me and I suppose her, I'm guessing before the whole 'lets go make a baby', snuggling my face in her chest in public and… just… really screwed up photos.

They weren't moving, probably taken by muggle camera then.

And they were copies too that she'd post to the daily prophet in which… humiliation would ensue, I'd rather relive my days with the marauders!

I simply can't have that.

All I needed to do was give her the money she needed… then she'd be glad to burn every one of them.

But could I really trust that? What if she decides to frame them all over her wallpaper instead.

Damn! I smell blackmail.

* * *

And that's it. I hope that wasn't tooo confusing. Reviews appreciated, thanks.


End file.
